He looks up at me, then at Camilla, then back again. “I see you brought company. Finally realized you’re not strong enough to stand alone?”
I don’t answer that. I sign. I came to ask you something.
He sighs, like I’ve already disappointed him.
Camilla’s voice cuts cleanly into the space. “Watch your tone.”
He leans back. “You’re Elvio Moretti’s daughter. Weren't you always fated to marry Giovanni? You should loathe her. She took him from you.”
“That’s not your concern,” she says. “She has a question. You’ll answer it.”
He narrows his eyes. “And if I don’t?”
Camilla shrugs. “Then we leave. But you’ll know what kind of man you’ve shown yourself to be. Again.”
I don’t look at either of them. I keep my eyes steady. He stands here, acting as though he has a right to be angry, as if he has any right over me at all when all he's done is treat me with disdain. The nerve of him.
I should leave right now and forget he exists, but I need to know. The words slip from my hands before I can second-guess them. What did Martelli mean when he said blood loyalty costs?
He stills. For a moment, he just looks at me. Then he rises, slow and deliberate, as if the act of standing might put me in my place. “You don’t want to know the answer to that.”
I sign. I do.
He laughs once, a cold, hollow sound that prickles my skin. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Liliana. You’re in deep now. That man of yours might think he can shield you, but some debts go further back than even his reach. Sneaking around without him? You’re out of your depth, girl.”
Camilla steps forward, but I touch her arm lightly. I lift my chin and speak with my hands again. So tell me the truth for once.
His face hardens. Then he says, “You think you can play in this world? You’re a liability, always have been.”
The urge to shrink rises, but I push it down, my chin lifting. Surprisingly, his words doesn't cut like they used to.
Camilla steps forward, her face flushed, her hands slashing through the air. “Stop it,” she grates. “She’s your daughter, not a burden. Respect her.”
My father’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening, but Camilla doesn’t waver, her gaze locked on his. Then, he turns his back and stares out the window, like we’ve already disappeared. And I know there's nothing he'll tell me. It's there in his stance.
I look at Camilla with something akin to gratitude, then I sign to her, let's go.
We leave without another word.
As we head to the car, Camilla doesn’t speak. I appreciate her silence. Then, I suddenly make a detour, a quick trip to the garden. I need to breathe it in one last time, because this is the last time I'll be here.
Camilla doesn't question it, she says quietly, “he’s afraid. That’s why he won’t talk.”
I nod once.
She glances at me. “Be careful. They’re not done testing you.” She pauses before she says, “Giovanni won't hear a word of this.”
I don’t answer. I just walk and stare straight ahead.
23
GIOVANNI
The estate feels wrong the moment I step inside, a silence too sharp, too empty, cutting through me like a blade. My boots echo on the marble, each step amplifying the dread clawing at my chest. I’ve been gone less than a day, a quick trip to settle a supplier dispute.
I expect Liliana in the sitting room, her hands signing gracefully, her eyes lighting when she sees me. Instead, the room is dark, curtains drawn, and the quiet screams her absence.
My pulse spikes, a low thrum of fear, and I stride to the security wing, my jaw tight. Tomasso’s there, leaning against a wall, but his grin fades when he meets my gaze.
